The world blurred into chaos.
Skylar bled from his side, his body half-collapsing from the blow he took protecting Riolu.
Misty clutched her ribs, blood trickling down her arm.
Their Pokémon stood battered around them.
Gyarados's scales were cracked.
Charizard's wings trembled with every breath.
Milotic's elegant body bore heavy wounds.
Starmie's gem flickered faintly.
Even Darkrai flickered like a dying shadow, breathing heavily.
The Shades closed in.
Silent.
Remorseless.
Skylar gritted his teeth, refusing to let despair in.
He glanced down.
Riolu stood before him, trembling—both fists clenched, tears in his crimson eyes.
"Riolu…" Skylar whispered.
The little Pokémon was shaking—his body screaming to keep fighting even though he was exhausted, even though he was terrified.
Nearby, Misty lifted her hand weakly.
"Froggadier… Squirtle…"
Her voice cracked.
Both her Pokémon—battered, bruised—stood facing a roaring Tyranitar, Weavile, and Scizor with no hesitation.
Tiny.
Overmatched.
Hopelessly outgunned.
But still defiant.
Tears pricked Misty's eyes.
She saw their faces.
The determination.
The love.
The will.
Something inside her shattered.
And reformed, stronger.
Skylar knelt beside Riolu.
Blood staining his hand, he rested it lightly on Riolu's shoulder.
"I'm proud of you."
Riolu's eyes widened.
Then clenched shut.
And the world changed.
A pulse of pure blue aura exploded outward.
Riolu screamed.
His body burned with light.
His shape stretched, twisted—evolved.
The light faded.
And standing there, tall and fierce, was Lucario.
Blue steel gleamed in the dying sunlight.
Aura radiated from him like a storm barely contained.
At the same moment—
Froggadier's body rippled.
Energy cracked along his frame.
Misty gasped, clutching her heart.
"Froggadier!"
He roared—not a croak, but a true cry.
Water wrapped his limbs in spiraling ribbons, slicing the ground beneath him as he grew, stretched.
When the light shattered—
Standing tall, blades of water extended from both arms—
Was Greninja.
Eyes sharp.
Posture ready.
Powerful.
And Squirtle…
Sweet, tiny Squirtle…
Shook once.
Then twice.
Then launched forward.
He roared, slamming into Drapion with a wild energy.
As he spun, shell gleaming, his body burst into blue fire.
When he landed—
Shell larger.
Limbs stronger.
Eyes burning.
Squirtle had evolved into Wartortle.
Skylar felt something in his chest crack open.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
Something older.
The aura inside him—the true heart of who he was—erupted outward.
A silver-blue shockwave exploded from Skylar, washing across the battlefield.
His Pokémon straightened.
Their wounds dulled.
Their strength returned.
Charizard roared toward the sky with renewed fury.
Gyarados coiled tighter, scales gleaming fiercely.
Darkrai's shadows solidified—dense, alive.
Misty's Milotic and Starmie shimmered as the aura passed them, fresh energy igniting their cores.
The Shades paused for the first time.
Their Pokémon faltered.
Uncertain.
Fearful.
The power that now radiated from Skylar and Misty wasn't human anymore.
It was something more.
Something that refused to break.
Something that burned hotter than any shadow.
Skylar stood, bloodied and breathing hard.
Misty straightened, wiping blood from her mouth.
Skylar pointed at the nearest Shade.
"Now."
The counterattack began.
Charizard and Greninja launched into the sky, weaving around Honchkrow and Staraptor.
Gyarados and Milotic spiraled around Tyranitar, their attacks synchronized in perfect devastating rhythm—Aqua Tail and Hydro Pump striking from opposite sides.
Starmie battered Drapion and Machamp with unrelenting psychic blasts, pinning them against the cliff walls.
Arcanine and Wartortle charged side by side, crushing the ground beneath them, breaking enemy lines apart.
Lucario…Lucario flashed forward faster than any human eye could follow—Aura Sphere slamming into Weavile so hard it shattered ice and sent the dark Pokémon flying into unconsciousness.
Darkrai drifted into the dreams of the fallen Pokémon, sealing them in endless sleep.
The Shades tried to rally.
But it was too late.
Their rhythm was broken.
Their assault shattered.
Their hope—if they even had any—gone.
One by one, their Pokémon collapsed.
Until only smoke, dust, and silence remained.
The Shades stepped back.
Silent.
Judging.
Knowing.
They exchanged a final look.
And vanished into the mist, retreating like the shadows they were.
The battle was over.
The broken cliffside road smoldered with energy.
Skylar dropped to one knee, exhausted but alive.
Misty stumbled, catching herself on Wartortle's shell, laughing weakly through tears.
Their Pokémon surrounded them.
Battered.
But victorious.
Together.
Still standing.
Skylar lifted his head to the bruised, purple sky.
This was only the beginning.
But for today—
They had won.